• Extra Extra Magazine
  • Agenda
  • Magazine
  • Listen
  • A/Z
  • Shop
    • Cart
    • Checkout
— Search
— Close
Menu —
  • Agenda
  • Magazine
  • Listen
  • A/Z
  • Visit
  • Short Stories
  • Subscription
  • Shop
  • Cart
  • Checkout
  • My account
  • Newsletter
  • About
  • Contact
  • Instagram
  • Privacy policy
Close —

HER MAN IS OUT

by Marijke Schermer

Short Story

 
https://extraextramagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/14-MARIJKE-SCHERMER-no15.mp3
 

As soon as I walk into the park, I see him. Like me, he is early. I take a quick look, half-hidden between a tree and the fence. Broad shoulders, slender stockinged legs ending in suede shoes, a modest heel, but still creating a certain unsteadiness; a timidity that I think I can see in his back. With the slanting golden light of the low sun to my left, I take the shell path that leads down and around the water. I’ll leave him alone for just a little longer. I hope that, in his excitement, he doesn’t head for the rose garden as it starts to get dark. I want to give him the danger he is seeking, but preferably while he is safe. I am wearing more makeup than I am used to, and my hair is pulled back in a tight bun. Inside my bag, I have the artefact.

When the sun has set and the wind in the last rustling leaves has disappeared, I leave my spot by the pond and walk back. She is by the statue, just as we agreed, standing out in beautiful contrast: Artemis, large and white and superior, while she is fragile, with her eyes lowered in her white face surrounded by the darkness, one ankle crossed over the other. I walk over and stand close to her. She does not look at me; she lets me look at her. Under the clumsily applied makeup, there is something noble. I lay my hand on the side of her face, smooth. Taking hold of her chin, I turn her head towards me and force her to look me in the eyes. Am I scaring her? Her heart thumps under my fingertips on her throat. I kiss her; her mouth is wet and willing. I slide my hand into the dress I chose and bought, and I take her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

I know she wants me to talk to her. I say nothing and breathe close to her ear. I run my hand over her buttocks, turn her to the side and put my hand up her dress now. She pushes her bum back a little as I move my fingers across the skin on the inside of her thigh above her stocking and then stroke the smooth fabric between her legs. I press my pelvis into her hip; she shivers, or pretends to shiver. I whisper a question: is she going to do as I tell her? She swallows, and then nods, slowly. I didn’t hear you, I say. Now she replies quickly, and quietly, also in a whisper, that she’ll do everything I say. I ask her if I can use her as I like. Yes, she says, please do whatever you want to me. Please. I grasp her more tightly, my hand between her legs, and thrust rhythmically against her from my hips. I slide my tongue into her ear.

I take her with me. My hand on her lower back, I guide her out of the park and onto the street. It is raining gently now. Look up, I say, and let the rain wet your face. At the front door of my house, I look at her. Her makeup is running. She asks if I live there, if I’m taking her to my home, if I really live in such a big, beautiful house. He’s acting badly now; I slip out of it for a moment. Into the hallway, I say, and no further.

I leave her standing on the mat by the door and go and sit on the third step up. We have a beautiful hallway, large and stately with old tiles and with ornamental features on the ceiling, a burgundy carpet on the stairs. Light from the streetlamp outside falls in through the leaded glass of the window above the door, and a soft orange-coloured light comes from upstairs, behind me.

I raise my knees a little and part my legs. Come here, I say, crawl slowly over here to me. On hands and knees, with her dress hitched up, she crawls to me across my hallway; over the tiled floor, her face looking up at mine, she crawls towards me. I lean back, with my elbows on a higher step. I open my legs wider. She asks if she can lick me. That depends, I say, that depends on whether you’re good at it. I’ll do my very best, she says. Go on then, I say, and I feel her mouth pressing against me. I rest my head on the staircase, close my eyes for a moment and let myself be carried away.

I come and then push her head away. She looks at me as a dog regards its owner. I say that I have to punish her, that I need to punish her for the filthy lust that’s inside her. She’s drooling or perhaps it’s my own wetness dripping from her lips. I lead her to the wall, turn her around and lay her down on the blanket chest. I pull down her panties over her buttocks. I fuck her with the dick as she leans forward on the chest in front of the mirror. Gently at first. And then harder, firmer. I don’t want to hurt her, I want her to surrender to me, I want her to know that she belongs to me. She groans and I tell her to be quiet. When she has come, I pull away from her. I watch as she tidies herself up. I give her one of my scarves. It’s cold outside, I say.

I drink a glass of wine in the kitchen, before going upstairs and getting undressed. I am lying in bed when I hear my husband come home. I listen to his movements in the house below me. I hear the water of the shower. Behind me, he comes in; he walks around the bed and slips under the covers. We lie facing each other, our four hands entwined between us. We look at each other for a long time. We are calm. I know he is wondering what I am seeing, who I am seeing. I’ll put my arms around him in a moment and let him sleep close to me.

 

Click here for more Short Stories

 

Published in Extra Extra No 14
  • Share:

Read

Short Story

OPEN UP

I’m lying on my side in Madé’s little cot; I still fit inside. According to Madé, I’m the smallest mother in the world. Lately I’ve been having moments where…

Short Story

I’M SCROLLING, CAN’T RESIST

‘Did you know nuns were this horny?’ Edan asks as we are both on our phones, sitting on either side of the couch, our feet touching. He turns his…

Short Story

MEN LIKE ME LIGHT UP

During the last recession, like thousands of others, I was sacked first and then kicked out of my house; now every few nights I slept on a different friendly…

Short Story

SUGAR CRACKLE SHORTCAKE

For our fourteen-year wedding anniversary I bought a box of instant cheese fondue. It is our anniversary ritual: I bought his favourite food, and he bought mine. Like most…

Portfolio

Viviane Sassen

Encounter

  • Dominique van Varsseveld
  • Karin Amatmoekrim
  • Sarah Arnolds
  • Ali T. As’ad
  • Simone Atangana Bekono
  • Nick Axel
  • Mercedes Azpilicueta
  • Gerbrand Bakker
  • Maria Barnas
  • Abdelkader Benali
  • David Bennewith
  • Frédérique Bergholtz
  • Marion Bloem
  • Melanie Bonajo
  • Daan Borrel
  • Eglė Budvytytė
  • Judith Couvee
  • Eelco Couvreur
  • Dimitris Dalakoglou
  • Romy Day Winkel
  • Maurits de Bruijn
  • Nina de la Parra
  • Alix de Massiac
  • Richard de Nooy
  • Nadia de Vries
  • Don Duyns
  • Hamid El Kanbouhi
  • Nina Folkersma
  • Gamal Fouad
  • Alicia Framis
  • Johan Fretz
  • Maxime Garcia Diaz
  • Steff Geelen
  • Susan Gibb
  • Arnon Grunberg
  • Alessandro Gualtieri
  • Esha Guy Hadjadj
  • David Haines
  • Thomas Heerma van Voss
  • Marius Hofstede
  • Huan Hsu
  • Philip Huff
  • Auke Hulst
  • Erik Jan Harmens
  • Fleur Jeras
  • Richard John Jones
  • Nicole Kaandorp
  • Christine Kappé
  • Ayşen Kaptanoğlu
  • Asha Karami
  • Maite Karssenberg
  • Paul Kooiker
  • Selin Kusçu
  • Marijn Lems
  • Ariah Lester
  • Christina Li
  • Stefanie Liebreks
  • Cesar Majorana
  • Canan Marasligil
  • Mariposa
  • Karel Martens
  • Anna-Marie Mašková
  • Alma Mathijsen
  • Kiriko Mechanicus
  • Kaweh Modiri
  • Nat Muller
  • Nicolini
  • Ahmet Öğüt
  • Joost Oomen
  • Jamal Ouariachi
  • Rita Ouédraogo
  • Passion DEEZ
  • Gustaaf Peek
  • Petrovsky & Ramone
  • Hannah Pezzack
  • Pink Zombie
  • Patricia Pisters
  • Marja Pruis
  • Josse Pyl
  • Rachael Rakes
  • Julius Reynders
  • Julian Ross
  • Daniel Rovers
  • Sam Samiee
  • Viviane Sassen
  • Marijke Schermer
  • Frank Siera
  • Loveday Smith 
  • Aram Tanis
  • Roelof ten Napel
  • TiZi/ CHiMi
  • Florence Tonk
  • Manon Uphoff
  • Ko van ‘t Hek
  • Hannah van Binsbergen
  • Fiep van Bodegom
  • Gilles van der Loo
  • Froukje van der Ploeg
  • Huib Haye Van Der Werf
  • Rob van Essen
  • Mensje van Keulen
  • Hannah van Wieringen
  • Yasmin Veenman
  • Timen Jan Veenstra
  • Ivo Victoria
  • Maria Vlaar
  • Marwin Vos 
  • Judith Vrancken
  • Niña Weijers
  • Maartje Wortel
  • Pete Wu
  • Kira Wuck
  • Newsletter
  • About
  • Contact
  • Instagram
  • Privacy policy
top